A Rose Among Thorns
by natalietardis
Summary: Once upon a time I made a decision. It wasn't a bad one and I don't regret it. But the consequences were beyond any of my wildest dreams...This is Una's Story.
1. Princess of Stormhold

**A Rose Among Thorns – Una's Story**

_{Author's Note : Hello, Natalie here! This is my first uploaded Fanfic. I started this a rather embarrassingly long time ago and never uploaded it onto my old account, which I am unable to delete, so here it is now! Hope you like it..._

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><p><span>Chapter One – Princess of Stormhold<span>

**I** woke up one morning with a small feeling of dread trickling through me like a little stream, and in only a moment's time it had turned into (not literally.) a waterfall. Today was my fifteenth birthday – a cause of elation to some girls, a cause of doom to myself and other girls of my high birth. I was now at the age at which high-born girls of Stormhold could be married. And, knowing my sly and cunning lord Father, His Majesty the king, he will seize at whatever marriage prospects for me he can get.

I should really stop complaining and introduce myself, it's a horrible trait of mine, Primus tells me all the time, but that's just stuffy old Primus – oh, off I go again! My name is Una, the youngest child and only daughter of the King of Stormhold, Comgan. I have seven older brothers and I can often not remember all their names, but today is your lucky day – Primus the Prince Royal, Secondus, Turtius, Quartus, Quintus, Sextus and Septimus. My mother, Queen Fiona, died giving birth to me, on this day fifteen years ago. My father was distraught at her death, which is a big thing for him, he is like a rock – completely unemotional. They say that he does not like to look at me nowadays, for I look much like my late mother, but he was quite fond of me when I was little and nobody had a clue who I looked like.

My brothers are my joys and my "thorn in the side," as Primus likes to put it. Primus himself was fourteen when I was born – we, the children of the king, are all two years apart – and it was him who had known my late mother for the longest time. Until my fifth birthday, it's said that he blamed me for our mother's death – he was very fond of her. Secondus, rash, sharp-tongued Secondus, being thirteen when Primus first said this (I was one) immediately remarked sharply, "Oh, yes, little Una entered this world with a single desire to murder her mother," and this infuriated Primus so that he actually made to attack and beat his younger brother. Primus was fifteen years old, and Secondus was thirteen and not as strongly built. Quintus (who was eight at the time) told me that it was quite scary but it ended quickly, and my lord Father had words with both of them, so that was over quickly.

I maintained a strong enough relationship with my brothers, but it was Septimus who I was closest with. He turned two a few weeks after my birth, and we have been very close since before I can remember. We would giggle together in the Palace gardens, telling secrets and swearing on our lives (that was not a very big thing for us back then) that we would never tell any living soul. When we were six we would drop plums from the high windows onto a few unlucky, unsuspecting heads, and quickly duck into the windowpane when they looked up suspiciously, covering our mouths to smother our euphoric shrieks of laughter. We did our studies together, we were taught together. When Septimus was twelve and began his sparring lessons, I would go to watch and gasp and applaud at just the right moment when Septimus disarmed his teacher or brothers, pride glimmering in his dark blue eyes.

On my fourteenth birthday during the supper banquet, he very suddenly whispered in my ear, "You look beautiful." I started, then snorted with laughter. I was no beauty. My hair was thick, impossible to tame and the colour of darkest night. My eyes are a plain, undistinguished blue, my complexion fair-skinned yet ruddy and covered with freckles. I turned to face him, expecting him to also be grinning along with the joke, but his face was serious. He was almost sixteen years old now, and was rarely serious.

"I'm not joking, Una. You look beautiful," he repeated.

I wanted to roll my eyes, but was suddenly afraid that this would seem rude. I stared at this new, solemn and intelligent Septimus, beloved brother of mine, and felt our childhood gambols slipping through the fingers of my memory. What was happening to Septimus?

"Any lord or prince would be lucky to have you as his wife," he continued.

The somber atmosphere broke. I made a face.

He smiled and playfully swatted the tip of my nose with his finger. "Oh, Una. You're really too stubborn for your own good, you know. You know our lord Father, he'll try to get you a husband as soon as possible – probably by this time next year." I made an even worse face and he laughed softly. "But our lord Father loves you, Una. Don't forget that. He would never force you to be happy or unhappy, he would never force you to marry a man you hate."

"That's too bad," I replied nastily, finally recovering the use of my voice. "I'll never marry."

Now, as I lay in my bed on the morn of my fifteenth birthday, I realized how unlikely it was that the future I had set for myself a year ago was going to happen.

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><p><em>{Author Note : Well, that's Chapter 1! Be prepared for an update soon. And just in case any of you were wondering - yes, it's possible that a fifteen-year-old girl would've been married off at the time. In the 1400s, there are examples of girls being married off at the very young age of twelve. This continued into the Victorian era, I think. Pretty nasty if you think about it. Again, thank you for reading! Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated :D}<em>


	2. The King's Decision

Chapter Two – The King's Decision

**M**y personal maid, Eloda, helped me dress. She's young, only a few years older then me, and she's married. Married to a good young man, not rich, not poor, not too involved in politics and the court, and they live in the country in a little cottage and have a daughter, named Unabeth for me. (Why anyone would name an innocent child after myself is beyond me.) Eloda is living in her own little fairy tale – she hums to herself all the time now, there is constantly a smile on her face, and here I am – bored, annoyed and trying to seem happy.

"You seem troubled, Princess," Eloda notes, with that happy little smile on her face.

Oh, do I really? I never would've noticed!

"It's nothing, Lady Eloda," I answered stiffly. Eloda wasn't stupid – she very wisely said nothing more until I was dressed into that unbearably bright scarlet dress, and she turned me around in front of the mirror and commented on "oh-how-lovely-I-looked" and said "Princess-how-exquisite-this-dress-is-and-oh-you-look-simply-wonderful", yadayadayada, on and on and on and...

There was a knock on the door.

"Send them in," I said irritably. Eloda looked at me like I was a dragon about to breath a mouthful of flames at the door, then tentatively opened it. I rolled my eyes, out of view of the person at the door. They and Eloda spoke quietly for a few moments, then Eloda closed the door and said, "Princess, His Majesty wants to see you."

_No._

My heart stopped, the blood froze under my trembling skin. I could feel my hands involuntarily clench into fists. _Oh God, no. I'm not going. I'm going to be married to some idiot...no, no, no, no...it's hopeless..._

"I..." was all I could get out in the end.

Eloda looked sorry for me. "Come, Princess," she whispered. I took a deep breath to steady myself and followed her out of the room, down the hallways and to my lord Father's throne room. Each step took a lifetime. My feet felt as heavy as dried clay. With each step I took, I was nearing the end of my girlhood, the end of my happiness, the end of my life. Alright, I wasn't too sure about the last one, but still.

And d'you know what happened then? As soon as I touched the huge, majestic knocker to the doors to the throne room, a sudden thought flitted across my numb mind, echoing itself in my head, and I could hear it as clearly as if it was screaming – _Mother, help me. Mother, I never knew you, but I want to. I'm sorry you had to die giving me life. I'm so selfish, but please, give me happiness and the mother's blessing I never had. Mother, help me._

"Enter."

I jumped. I hadn't even realized that I had knocked on the door, and now I heard my father's voice. I had been so absorbed with my conversation with my dead mother's thoughts that a false warmth began to spread through me, and I thought I heard in my mind as a reply to my thoughts, _Daughter, I'm here. _I took a deep breath and entered the throne room.

Immediately I dropped into a low curtsey. "My lord Father," I said quietly and reverently. I stood and smiled at him, and to my surprised he smiled back. I hadn't expected that – I hadn't seen my father in days, and Septimus says he smiles at no one. He stood up from his throne, crossed the room in seven slow strides, put his hands on my shoulders and kissed me on both cheeks. "My dearest daughter, you look lovely. Happy birthday."

_Dearest_ daughter? You look _lovely_? _Happy_ birthday? Am I hearing this right?

He hesitated, then cocked his head at me. "And you are...how old, again?"

Oh.

_Oh._

That, lying, twisted, cunning, sly old _fox!_ How _dare_ he?

"I'm not getting married," I hissed furiously, forgetting for a moment who I was talking to.

He started suddenly, like he had been shocked by lightning. "Una!" I couldn't work out whether he sounded cross or hurt.

"My lord Father, _please."_ I wasn't going to be a sentimental perfect little princess, but if this was the only way to stay happy... "If you want me to be happy, you can't marry me off to some old stranger! I'm your _daughter."_

"How dare you speak to me that way!" he snarled, suddenly grabbing my arm in a vice-like grip. I cried out with the sudden flare of pain. "I'm your father, you must obey me! I'm the King, for God's sake! What's wrong with you, Una?"

I could feel tears stinging my eyes, but I refused to show any weakness. "I – will – never – marry!" I almost yelled in his face.

I was expecting any reaction, except the one I was given. His face turned ash-gray and he stumbled backwards, looking like he was bent over a mortal wound. And then, he crumpled to the floor.

"Una, what have you done?" The moan came from the back of the room. I turned to see Gunther, my father's eldest adviser, standing frozen with shock, his eyes wide with dismay.

"I – I – " What _did_ I do?

He rushed forward. "Oh, Princess Una, that's the worst part, you don't know you did it!" Note the new title. "Twenty-nine years earlier, your mother said the exact same thing to your father before he forced her into marrying him – he loved her dearly, but she hated him. Think about what a painful flashback that must've been and the hurt it caused him!"

What? My father had forced my mother into marriage? How awful! Death must have come as a release for her. I meant nothing to her – I was _his_ child, anyway, just like my brothers. The realization hit me like a crippling wound, and I gasped, clutching at my stomach.

"Princess?" Gunther was confused.

"I need to...I need..." I couldn't finish my sentence; instead I ran as fast as I could out of the throne room, too great a coward to say, _I need to get away from here._

A few minutes later I found myself pounding at Septimus' door, sobbing, breathless. He opened it, looking bewildered. "Una? What...?"

"Septimus," I gasped, clutching at the doorframe, tears rolling down my cheeks. "You've got to help me."


	3. Crossroads

Chapter Three – Crossroads

**S**eptimus pointed. "That road leads to the Market. You should find a good job there and someone to help you. Call yourself..." He hesitated. "Judith Underhill. Your parents are dead and you are seeking work. If you're low on money and...acquaintances, contact me, don't try anything desperate. Do you understand?" His dark blue eyes stared deep into mine, of a lighter shade.

We were standing at a crossroads a few miles south of the Palace. I was in a plain red dress, my dark hair done up on top of my head, carrying a basket full of food, drink, maps and, for some reason, a necklace that had belonged to my late mother. Septimus had packed it. Once I stammered out my cause of leaving to him, only a few hours earlier, he commanded me to change, packed the basket, took two horses and – bang – we were out of the Palace. I was prepared to leave my life as a princess behind me. He was prepared to see me off.

"D'you want me to tell anyone else about you..." He didn't need to finish his sentence.

I thought about that. "Tell Primus. And tell our lord Father that...that he doesn't need to worry about me finding out about our mother anymore. That I'll stay away from him now." A lump rose in my throat and I looked away, embarrassed. I wasn't one for sentimental goodbyes and farewell speeches.

He hugged me tightly in response. "I love you, Una," he whispered into my hair.

"I love you too, Septimus," I whispered brokenly. I would miss him so much. "I'll write, I promise, as soon as I can. I might even visit one day when...when..."

"When?" he prompted.

I was going to say, _When our lord Father is dead and Primus is king,_ but that sounded treasonous and I only shook my head.

His eyes narrowed for a moment, then he looked away. "Judith Underhill," he muttered.

I nodded. "Judith Underhill."

He sighed and hugged me quickly, one last time, then hopped onto his horse and rode away into the horizon, where I could see the sun setting – the end of the day.

That was the last time I saw Septimus as a playful young boy and my beloved brother.

I had been traveling for about two hours now and was exhausted. Septimus, trying not to make my escape look obvious, wouldn't let me take a horse, so I now had to walk. I was not used to such long distances and how stumbled along, tired, hungry and aching.

"Why my dear," said a soft voice from my left. "What are you doing out here on such a dark night?" I turned around, suddenly alert.

It now strikes me, nowadays when I don't have much to worry about, what could have happened and what could not have happened if I did not turn around and simply carried on my way. If I had kept walking I would've missed out on twenty years of miserable boredom, but I also would've missed out on who are currently the three most important people in my life right now. So I settle for the first option in these confusing crossroads.

There was a yellow caravan drawn by a handsome light brown horse at the side of the road. A woman sat in front of it, stoking a fire. She was perhaps in her thirties, with wild red hair and dark, shrewish brown eyes. Her pursed lips were turned into a winning smile as she stared at me. "And such a pretty little thing like you, too?"

I opened my mouth to say, _My name is Judith Underhill, I'm on my way to the Market and would like a lift, if you would be so kind._ But exhaustion overwhelmed me; my eyes half-closed and I swayed on my feet. Black dots swam before my eyes.

Before I knew it the woman was at my side, supporting me, helping me towards the caravan, relieving me of my basket. "Oh, you poor dear, you seem so tired! You must've come such a long way! A pretty girl like you can't be safe on the country roads for long – why not spend the night in my caravan? At no cost, too. Oh, yes, my name is Sal. Dearest, what's yours?"

"Una," I mumbled stupidly, then my eyes flew open with shock when I realized what I had done. _Una, you idiot!_

If Sal had been surprised, she showed no sign of it. Inside, she handed me a warm cup full of a thick, brownish liquid. "There you go, dear. It'll wake you up slowly and tenderly. That's right – sup it up." I had grabbed the drink from her hands after a brief mumble of "thanks" and was gulping it down, parched and hungry.

It was warm at first. Then a paralyzing cold shot through my body, followed by a wave of aching – everywhere. I gasped and fell to my hands and knees, my natural defenses willing me to vomit. I could feel my eyes rolling back into my head – a grotesque feeling, do all in your power to avoid having this done to you – and everything slowly faded away to black.

The last thing I saw was Sal's face, no longer smiling warmly and sympathetically, but jeering at the fainting princess in intense pain in front of her.


End file.
